Stuck
by je ne suis aucun ange
Summary: Lyle is home sick and gets an unexpected visitor. Sylar/Lyle slash.
Summary: Lyle is home sick and gets an unexpected visitor. Sylar/Lyle slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Stuck

Lyle was stuck home sick again. He'd been coughing all week, running a fever and moaning and groaning from aches and pains. His mother finally decided he could stay home and keep Mr. Muggles company for the weekend while Mom, Dad, and Claire went ahead to check out one of Claire's college choices for the weekend. He didn't even get a day off of school but here he was stuck home while everyone else got to go out. He glanced at the single bowl of soup on his desk too far out of his reach to bother. Thanks for that, Mom.

Lyle's hair was matted to his forehead as he twisted and turned under the comforter. He stopped rolling around to stop on his stomach and hug his pillow. He warily eyed his window, debating opening it and freezing or keeping it closed and burning to death. It seemed like a lot of effort… Shaking his head, he cuddled further under the blankets. He sighed and struggled to cover as much of his shivering body yet stick his toe out to cool down. Grunting with effort as he just got more tangled up, he finally gave up with a whine and buried his face into his pillow.

Lyle's face twitched at the sound of something moving around his room. They must be home early, he noted. He moaned into the pillow, "Mom, I'll eat the soup later," he gripped a cool part of the blanket into his hands. "Please, I'm tired."

"Need a kiss to make it better?," a deep voice purred. Lyle blearily opened his eyes and saw the serial killer balanced on his window sill. Sylar smirked at his gaping mouth. Sliding easily onto the bed, the man trapped Lyle with no effort at all. Sylar's arms and legs were planted on either side of his body, using the blanket as a net, giving off enough heat that left Lyle panting.

Lyle struggled under the blanket trying to pry loose from the psychopath's trap with no luck, only managing to turn onto his back. It felt like minutes of flailing and gasping for air while the killer watched on with amusement. He finally lost fuel and dropped his limbs in exhaustion, quaking at the gaze from above him.

Laughing at the shivering boy beneath him, Sylar leaned his face inches from Lyle's. "Now, Lyle, be a good host and tell me where Claire is."

"I don't know," he gasped, "Out somewhere. I don't know where." He clenched his eyes shut and wiggled underneath the blanket, unknowingly rubbing against the man. The friction surprised a shudder from the man above him. Lyle didn't notice, still struggling and thinking if he'd just taken his vitamins maybe he wouldn't be stuck at home fighting off a psychopath. A deep moan in his ear froze Lyle. The sound made his hair stand on ends and sped his heart's pounding against his ribs. He peeked an eye open at the man above him.

"Are you okay?", he squeaked. His heart felt like it was ready to burst, and with the muscled body hovering just above his was more contact than he'd had in a lifetime. Another test wiggle got him a growl and a thrust of a hard bulge into his thigh. Lyle's face flared at the feel of the killer's manhood against him and screwed his eyes shut as he felt himself starting to react too. "Stupid teen hormones!", he cursed silently.

Sylar pulled away from him enough to scrutinize Lyle, eyeing him from his brow slowly down to his plump lips, past his neck that showed his racing pulse, all the way to his covered crotch as if Sylar could sense his attraction. He dragged his eyes back up to Lyle's mortified ones and crouched over him with cloudy eyes, gripping his thin wrists with an invisible hold. In a flash, he gripped the comforter in his fingers and flung the comforter off the boy's chest revealing his small frame. Lyle gasped as the breeze caressed his bare chest and sent goosebumps along his body.

"Please...", he pleaded.

Sylar narrowed his eyes, "Please what?"

"...I don't know…", Lyle blushed. At the man's smirk, Lyle focused his gaze on the window, too embarrassed to say anything stupid in fear of the killer laughing at him.

"How about we try to figure it out, and you tell me if I guess right," he whispered, hooking his fingers in the blanket, sliding it down past the boy's hips. Sylar leered at the tent in Lyle's boxers, his restraint breaking as the hips squirming underneath his became too much. He bared his teeth and lunged at the naked neck in front of him, pleased at the "Eeep!" from the shy boy. His teeth bit into the tender skin, making sure to leave his mark for anyone to see.

Pulling up, Sylar lavished in the lust in the boy's eyes. On impulse, he reached out and stroked his fingers across the soft pink cheeks. Lyle shuddered in pleasure and mewled for more. More attention, more comfort. He seemed so innocent.

He gave a feral smile and thrust downwards, moaning at the friction of their hard-ons rubbing against each other and trying to draw as many sounds as he could from those innocent lips. Lyle tried to grab onto something to anchor himself, but the telekinetic hold was so strong on his wrists he could only writhe under him rocking with his thrusts, trying to get more contact. The room felt so warm, Lyle felt he would suffocate. Death by sex. He looked up at the man above him, chest glistening with sweat and muscles flexing with the thrusts, and thought it couldn't be the worst way to go.

Lyle whispered, "Please, let me touch you."

Sylar slowed his movements and watched the boy beneath him, studying him. Lyle tried breaking the invisible hold to no avail and whined in want. The throbbing bulge pushing against him didn't let up either, and Lyle finally begged, "Pleasepleaseplease let me touch you!"

The hold was suddenly gone and Lyle threw his arms around the broad shoulders, using the leverage to thrust up against the man's zipper, dragging moans out of both of them. The pace quickened and left Lyle breathless, fighting for air. Lyle felt something building below his stomach and gripped Sylar's back, digging his nails into the skin. His whole body felt so hot but he couldn't stop moving and holding and pleading. "I-I think I'm…", Lyle gasped. Sylar growled and thrust even faster against him. The zipper, the hot body above his, the suffocating room all became too much sensation and sent Lyle over the edge. He finally came with a shout, gasping, "SYLAR!", scratching the killer's back as he came in his boxers. Sylar grabbed Lyle's wrists in a vice grip and thrust down with such abandon, ignoring the boy's mewls of overstimulation, coming with just a few more thrusts. The space between them quickly cooled with the burning evidence between them, slowly soaking spots through their clothes.

Sylar held himself up taking note not to crush the skinny body below him, his hands still holding Lyle's wrists tight. He flexed them and looked at the disheveled boy, his no-longer-virgin being looking so defiled. Lyle blushed at the wet spot he felt in his boxers, shifting his legs a bit to ease the feeling. Sylar leered at him, releasing his wrists and sliding off the bed smoothly.

Lyle shot up to cover himself with the blanket, modesty making it's way back in his racing mind. He watched Sylar adjust himself and waltz out of his room down the hall. Scared he was just gonna leave, Lyle piped, "Where are you going?" No answer. He heard some shuffling, a door, and footsteps coming back towards his room. Lyle realized that he maybe should have called his dad or someone while Sylar was gone, but before he could even move Sylar was back in his room… wearing a pair of his dad's jeans.

Sylar laughed at his confused look. "I can't just walk around outside with that stain on my pants, Lyle. People might ask questions." Lyle nodded from behind the comforter, wondering how he was gonna explain a pair of of missing jeans to his dad. He'd figure something out.

"So, you're leaving?", Lyle whispered, trying not to seem like a kicked puppy.

Sylar glanced at his jutted out lips and downcast eyes, his manhood twitching at the sight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering he was supposed to be killing this kid's sister, not wasting the day with quick rubdowns. A few more breaths and he was back under control. He needed to have some restraint goddammit. He opened his eyes and looked at Lyle, unable to stop his smile at the boy so eager to please. "Yes, but I'll see you soon," he promised, smirking as he imagined all the things he could do next time. A quick peck to Lyle's lips and he was back on the windowsill. "Till next time." He gave a two-finger salute and he was gone.

Lyle pulled the comforter tighter around himself, missing the warmth from just minutes ago. He peeked out the window and saw just the empty street. With a sigh he plopped back onto the mattress and hugged the pillow back to his face. A groan and some wiggling and he finally got as close to comfortable as he could. As his eyes started drifting closed, he decided he didn't have the energy to call his dad or anyone about what happened yet. Maybe he'd say something Monday, or whenever. He fell asleep with thoughts of hovering bodies and exploring hands.


End file.
